Disclaimer: Not mine

A/N: Thanks for sticking with this story through its dreary beginning. I am a sucker for a happy ending, and I promise that all my stories will have happy endings, and I will never abandon them unfinished, even though the demands of real life might slow them, at times. This one is nearly finished, however, so there should be no long gaps! Happy New Year, and be safe out there! :)

Five: I need you

After thanking Danny and Elena for watching Finn for so long, which of course they brushed off—they were family, after all—Jack had buckled the ebullient boy into his booster seat in the back of his car and they headed for the hospital, with Kate holding Finn's attention in the back seat while Hanna watched him warily from her seat next to him in the front. She was worried about him, he knew, but she didn't need to be. He wasn't going to explode. He could handle this. His need to get to Samantha was as strong as it had been when he'd gotten Danny's call last night—had it been that long ago? No, that wasn't true. It was stronger now, intensified by every second, every minute that it took to get to her side.

The guilt for not being here ate at him, clawed at his gut, at his heart, and he struggled to push it back. This wasn't his fault. It wasn't. Rationally he knew it, but he still felt responsible for his team whether Vivian had been acting team leader or not. They were his family, and it was his responsibility to look after them. In truth, he had always felt the full responsibility for Samantha, whether they were together at the time or not. He hadn't always admitted it, even to himself, but it had always been true. She was his, and always would be.

Pulling into the hospital parking lot, he thought of all the times that she had been there for him, all the times that she had been sitting there, next to his hospital bed, waiting patiently for him to wake up. He had always been surprised, and then had wondered why. She had shown him with her actions that she would always be there, and he wondered now what it was in him that had always doubted her, that had always felt unworthy of her worry and her friendship and her love. He wondered if she would be surprised to see him when she finally woke—because the alternative wasn't an option and he refused to entertain it as one, even for an instant—and decided that she probably would. Whether that was due to him or due to her, he wouldn't try to answer now. He just had to show her with his actions that he was here for her, in whatever capacity she wanted him to be, and always would be. His need to be there, to show her with his actions that his unconditional love was a given, burned hot within him now. Nothing else mattered.

He walked through the doors with the girls on both sides of him, as if they felt the need to protect him now, which they probably did, and Finn's hand held tightly in Hanna's. Finding her room, Jack was shocked into immobility by the sight of her there, in that bed, looking so lifeless. It was the complete opposite of the way he always saw her in his mind: so strong, so vivacious and vibrant and so damn full of life and love that it sometimes made his chest hurt to look at her; he loved her that damn much. It had been nearly three weeks now, he knew, and most of her injuries had healed, her face looking mostly back to normal, most of the bruises having faded and the once-livid cut over her brow fading to a dark red line. Her head was still bandaged, and he could tell where her head had been shaved for surgery. She looked pale and bloodless now, a shadow of herself, and he wished again that he had been able to tell Finn no so that the kids weren't here now. He wanted to yell at someone. Anyone. He wanted to put his fist through a wall. But he couldn't, because he had to be strong for their kids. He had to be the dad right now.

Somehow, frozen as he was, he held it together as Finn left his side unbidden and crossed to her to hold her hand and talk to her softly, and he and the girls walked up behind him, resting their hands on his little shoulders as his voice caught, little lower lip trembling as he held back his tears. Jack picked him up, holding him tightly to his chest as the boy cried into his shirt, and then he found his gaze as the little boy finally cried himself out. "Wanna give her a kiss?" he asked quietly, and Finn smiled instantly and nodded. He held him carefully and let him lean over to kiss her lips, and then her cheek, and then Finn turned back into his arms and wrapped his arms around his neck in a wordless hug. "Thanks, Jack," he beamed.

Hanna moved in and took the boy, knowing that he needed time alone for this. "Come on, buddy, let's go find some ice cream." She looked back at Samantha, lying so still in the bed. "I hope you get better," she said quietly, and then she let Finn down to the floor and took his hand, while Kate took the other and they left the room and left Jack alone with her for the first time.

He sighed, moving to a chair and pulling it closer to the bed. God, this was torture. And yet, as bad as it was, as bad as she looked right now, this was the closest he had been to her in longer than he could remember. Gathering his courage, he studied her hand lying on the sheet, looking pale and small and so fragile, remembering the strength it held, remembering all the times she had fought for him, had comforted him, had loved him with all she had.

Slowly he ran his fingers over hers, trailing them lightly over the back of her hand, over her wrist and up her forearm, and then back down again. Feeling the softness of her skin and the warmth beneath it, thinking than even this slightest of touches was a gift beyond measure. He watched his fingers trail over hers, turning her hand over carefully, watching his fingers twine with hers as if of their own volition, as if they belonged there. He sat there for what felt like forever, just looking at their hands together, fingers intertwined, her hand held protectively in his bigger one, the memories firing off in his brain of other times when he had done just this, just sat with her, in silence, her hand in his. In times of happiness, in times of sadness, in times of passion and comfort.

He didn't blame her for what she had done to them. How could he? He had done the same, to her. Both of them had had no clue of how to go about being good, caring, loving parents. All they had known was that they loved their children more than anything they had ever known and would do anything in their power to make them happy. He understood that feeling far too well, and he had tried to make things work with Maria far beyond what he should have because he thought his daughters had deserved it, because he had wanted to make them happy, to give them the gift of a happy family.

He couldn't fault Samantha for that, and never had. He only wished things had worked out for her, because he wanted her to be happy, always, even if it wasn't with him. He didn't know the specifics of what had happened with Brian, and didn't want to know. He had a pretty good idea why she had never come to him, never said a word, never asked to talk, never asked him to try again. In that regard, the two of them were very much alike. Both of them tended to take the weight of the world on their shoulders. Neither found themselves deserving of love after all of the mistakes they had made.

He moved his eyes from their hands to her face, with effort. God, he loved her so much. The idea that he would never see those brilliant eyes on his again was repugnant to him. That he wouldn't ever see them again lit up with laughter, with passion, even with anger felt wrong. He thought that he had seen every expression known to man cross her features, most of it directed at him. He knew he could inspire the strongest emotions in her, both light and dark, and he knew she could in him as well. He had once thought that she was the light to his darkness, but now he wasn't sure. He knew he had light in him, as well, even though only her and their kids seemed to be able to bring it out of him, mosto of the time. He was a different person with her than he usually showed the rest of the world, and he knew she was different with him as well. Always had been.

He had no idea what to do, no idea of what to say. The nurse had smiled sympathetically at him, knowing that her family—her real family—had called him, not knowing what else to do. She'd told him that her mother and her sister had been by, and there had been no change. She told him just to talk to her, that that would help, and as he looked at her now, he tried desperately to clear his head, to marshal his thoughts and figure out what it was that he needed to say. He knew he would say anything right now to bring her back to him.

He took a deep breath and started talking. "Hey," he said, squeezing her hand in his. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I just found out. Danny called me last night. I would have come the minute I heard. I hope you know that. I hope you know that nothing—nothing—could have kept me away. Not even fucking Brian, if he were here." He imagined the look she would give him at that, if she were awake, and chuckled.

"I may have had to give you up, but there's no way in hell you can make me like it. You're mine, in my heart, and you always will be. Nothing is ever going to change that. Danny said Martin wanted to call me the second they found you, argued for it even while the paramedics were fighting to save your life. Vivian said no, not to bother me on my vacation with the girls. It was a great vacation. We had a great time, just me and my girls, but I would trade it for this not to have happened. I would trade it to have been there in your place. I might not have done as well as you undercover in this particular scenario, but I still would give anything to be here, in this bed, instead of you."

"They told me what happened, what you did, what you had to do to get those kids out of there, and I have to say I'm pissed as hell at you right now. Jesus, Sam, you could have gotten yourself killed! Very nearly did. You need to wake up so I can give you the lecture I've been working on since last night. You have a little boy who loves you, Samantha. You have no business taking a risk like that and leaving him alone. You have no business taking a risk like that and leaving me alone." His voice cracked as emotion hit him hard, swamping his heart as he realized how close he'd come this time to losing her. He leaned closer, his face hovering over hers, watching his tears drip onto her face and slide down her lifeless skin.

He half hoped that they would startle her, awaken her suddenly like in the movies, and he had to smile at his own flight of fancy. Still holding her hand in his, he lifted the other to her face, gently brushing off the moisture he'd left there, staring at her features as if that alone would bring her back. Finally he pressed his lips to her forehead, kissing her softly, hoping to convey just a fraction of the overwhelming love he had for her in that one small action. "I need you, Samantha," he told her roughly. "You have to come back to me."

Satisfied that he'd made himself clear, for once in his life, he settled back into the chair, folding his other hand over hers where it still rested in his, vowing then and there that if he ever had the chance, he would make sure she knew that he loved her fiercely, with everything he had and everything he was, and never let the chance go by to show her.

TBC...